


Five Times Reid Is More Social Than You Thought

by jujuberry136



Series: Reid/Ziva [1]
Category: Bones (TV), CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Minds, NCIS, Numb3rs
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairing, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-23
Updated: 2009-08-23
Packaged: 2017-10-17 12:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujuberry136/pseuds/jujuberry136
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you think I sat around and tried to solve the Riemann hypothesis in my free time?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Reid Is More Social Than You Thought

**Author's Note:**

> This doesn’t take place at any specific time, but to be fair to everyone assume spoilers through CM episode 4.26 (season 4 finale). Crossovers with NCIS (Set vaguely in Season 6) Numb3rs (vaguely Season 5), Bones (vaguely Season 4), and CSI (vaguely Season 8). None of these shows belong to me.

**1) Some Days You’re the Statue**

It’s not that Emily thought she was the only member of her team to appreciate art, but she was still shocked when she saw Reid at the new Renaissance sculpture exhibit at the National Gallery.

Scratch that.

Emily was shocked when she saw Reid at the exhibit with a woman.

“This might explain the nicer sweaters,” she thought wryly. Well, maybe JJ would split her winnings with her by treating her to dinner. She deserved that much for confirming JJ’s guess in the team’s bet for the reason behind Reid’s fashion upgrade. Emily still isn’t sure why she choose the new school, new clothes” option.

Her co-worked was less rumpled than usual, though still in his basic uniform of slacks, button down shirt, and a cardigan. His companion (date?) was also in slacks and a sweater, though hers was more form fitting.

They made a pretty picture, both slender but otherwise a study in contrasts; him tall, her short; him pale and angular, her dark and curved. They fit in perfectly with the exhibit.

Her musings were interrupted by an accented voice. “Why are you staring at me?”

Emily blinked, how had Reid’s date managed to sneak up on her so quickly?

“Ziva, it’s ok,” Reid said calmly as he walked over. “This is Emily Prentiss, she’s one of my teammates. Emily, this is Ziva David.”

“Why were you staring?” Ziva asked again suspiciously.

“Sorry,” Emily replied sheepishly, “I just never took Reid as an art fan and it took me a minute to adjust.”

Ziva gave Emily a long look, clearly not buying her lame excuse. Emily really needed to learn to lie better—for someone who often had to lie to suspects she really stunk at making up believable excuses on the fly.

“I actually prefer the impressionists,” Reid replied, clearly trying to change the course of conversation. “What brings you to the exhibit?”

“I missed seeing Bacchus and Ariadne when I was in Vienna last, so when I heard that is was coming here, I couldn’t pass it up,” she replied honestly.

“And since we’re on stand down anyway,” Reid continued smiling.

“Well, I don’t want to keep you. Enjoy the exhibit,” Emily said. “Have a nice evening,”

“We will,” Ziva replied, offering a small smile in return.

As the two walked away, Emily could hear Ziva say, “We’ve got another half-hour before we need to get back to the brisket. Do you want to see the Calder’s before we leave?”

She waited a minute before hurrying to the exit herself; Garcia would never forgive her if she waited to tell her the news of Reid’s date.

The next morning, Reid came into the office slightly rumpled—and wearing the same pants and sweater he had the night before. Trying to control her eyebrows, she asked, “Have a good night last night?”

He blushed slightly and nodded.

“So the great Spencer Reid spends his free time at art museums,” she mused quietly, not wanting to draw Morgan’s attention away from telling JJ about the cute women he met in a bar last night.

“What did you think I do in my free time?” he asked curiously. “Try to solve the Riemann hypothesis?”

“Honestly?” Emily replied. “I was afraid you spent your evenings arranging your pantry according to package density or something.”

“That’s only on Thursdays,” Reid replied with a wicked grin before walking to the break room, coffee mug in hand.

 **2) Loquacious**

“Anyone seen Reid recently?” Morgan asked, taking a break from the pile of folders in front of him.

Prentiss looked up from her own pile, grateful for the distraction. “Didn’t we send him down to Autopsy to talk to Dr. Mallard?”

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo groaned loudly. “Well that explains it,” he exclaimed as he stretched out.

“Excuse me?” Prentiss asked.

“Ducky is...verbose to say the least,” Special Agent McGee explained as he looked furtively from side to side before abandoning his own pile of cold cases to bring his chair closer to Prentiss and Morgan. “It’s kind of hard to stop him if you get him going…”

“So your missing Agent is probably still in Autopsy listening to Ducky talk about some wild misadventure of his youth, which undoubtedly reminded him of an interesting book he once read,” Agent David finished for her coworker.

“I’d better go get him,” Morgan volunteered. “Hotch and Special Agent Gibbs are going to want that information when they get back from Bethesda.”

“It’s never a good idea to keep Gibbs waiting,” DiNozzo said gravely, the somber expression seemingly out of place on his normally smiling face.

“Well then, I’d better get going,” Morgan replied gamely.

“I’ll show you the way,” McGee volunteered desperately. From the dark looks his two teammates shot his way, Morgan was betting they wished they had thought of McGee’s tour guide offer themselves.

“Why’d Reid go down to Autopsy anyway?” McGee asked curiously. “I mean, obviously to talk to Ducky, but why send Reid?”

“Did you notice that he finished his share of the case files earlier?” Morgan asked. “The kid can read 20,000 words a minute — we already gave him the lion’s share of the case files. It was either send him on a field trip or give him more files — and you don’t want to hear one of Hotch’s lectures on team cohesion and equality.” Morgan looked at McGee and confided, “the man was a lawyer. Those lectures can last for hours.”

The first thing they saw when the entered Autopsy was a young man in scrubs sitting at a desk, writing. “Palmer, you seen Special Agent Reid anywhere?” McGee asked.

Palmer looked up from filing out his report, “He and Dr. Mallard are in the main room.” He looked a bit dazed. “Is it Friday yet?” he asked desperately.

McGee and Morgan exchanged a quick, concerned glance before walking through the double doors to the main room. Inside they found their errant BAU agent and the NCIS’ medical examiner deep in conversation.

“So you see my dear boy,” Ducky was saying, “I simply couldn’t the poor man continue in his fallacious thinking!”

Reid was laughing. “What did you say?” he managed to choke out between gasps.

“Ducky,” McGee interrupted, “do you have anything new for us about the body?”

Reid looked down guiltily at their entrance, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I was just coming up to tell you Dr. Mallard’s findings,” he said to Morgan.

“Sure you were, ” Morgan grinned. “Don’t worry about it, it’s nice to take a break from the cold case files, but I’m pretty sure Hotch and Agent Gibbs will be back any minute.”

Reid nodded. He turned to Dr. Mallard, “It was nice to meet you, sorry I couldn’t hear the rest of your story. I’m dying to know what you said.”

“Then you shall have to come to dinner!” Ducky invited, smiling widely. “Besides, we got off track with our debate of Jungian versus Freudian psychology!”

“Sounds good,” Reid replied as he joined McGee and Morgan by the door.

“Looks like somebody made a friend,” Morgan teased as they waited for the elevator.

“He’s an interesting man,” Reid replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “And a good M.E, did I tell you what he discovered from Herman Hesse’s body?”

Morgan let him get away with the abrupt change in topic; it was too good to see the youngest member of his team interacting with other members of society. Sometimes he wondered if Reid spent all his free time watching old Star Trek episodes and solving math problems.

 **3) Fuck it, Dude, let’s go bowling**

When JJ was a little girl, the most popular place to have your birthday party was Walter Sobchak’s Bowl-O-Rama. It was a twenty-minute drive to get there, but all of her friends had parties there. She remembered begging her mother to have her eighth birthday party there, but after her older brother Simon’s disastrous eleventh birthday party there, her mother had refused. JJ disliked bowling on principle from that day on.

When Will suggested bowling on their weekly date night, JJ had originally refused. But after three days of puppy-dog eyes (if Henry inherited those, she was screwed), she finally gave in. After running down Henry’s schedule with Garcia, who had jumped at the chance to babysit, JJ was heading to the bowling alley.

Joy.

As Will was testing all the balls to find a favorite, JJ lounged in the hard plastic seat. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something unusual. A group of nuns, each with a pink personalized bowling shirt and habit, were off to her left. There were, however, two obvious outsiders on the team.

A Goth girl, complete with visible tattoos, her dark hair pulled into pigtails was talking animatedly to a thin tall man. He towered above the Goth girl and the nuns, but was also wearing the group’s bright pink bowling shirt. He looked vaguely familiar—she turned her head to get a better look.

The Goth girl had noticed her staring and was waving enthusiastically. She tapped her teammate on his shoulder and points her out. He spins on his heel and JJ blinks.

“Hey, isn’t that Spencer?” Will asked from behind her.

The Goth girl drags Reid across the three lanes that separate them. “Hi!” she says cheerily. “You were staring at us, which is kinda weird by the way, but then Spencer told me he knows you! So I just wanted to say ‘hi!’”

She elbowed Reid sharply, who then said, “Abby, this is my teammate Jennifer Jareau and her boyfriend Will LaMontagne. Guys, this is Abby Sciuto.”

Once the pleasantries are exchanged, Abby drags Reid back to their lane, looking over her shoulder and telling JJ and Will, “Sorry we can’t stay and chat, but Sister Rosalita needs all the moral support she can get right now! We’re gearing up for league championships and she’s got an achy rotator cuff!”

“Well, it’s nice to see him out of the office,” Will said once the two had returned to their group, “though I guess he got off lucky the sisters didn’t try to make him wear one of those skirts.” JJ mentally followed Will’s pointed finger to some of the nuns wearing poodle skirts and sweater sets.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “But I’m a bit confused about how he ended up on a bowling team with a bunch of nuns and a Goth…I mean, he doesn’t even believe in God,” she said, her voice trailing off at the end.

“I suppose it takes all types to bowl,” Will said philosophically.

“I guess,” JJ replied. “But really, this is how he spends his free time? Bowling with a bunch of nuns?”

“It ain’t like he enjoys going to clubs or anything like that,” Will replied. “So why not? Now, are you going to bowl, or should I just declare myself the champion now?” Will asked seriously.

 **4) Physics Magic**

Rossi woke to the persistent ringing of his cell phone. He managed to flip it open and said, “hello?”

“Rossi?” JJ asked, “Our departure time got bumped up about three hours, we leave at eleven this morning.”

“Great,” Rossi groused, rousing himself out of bed through sheer force of will and started to stuff clothes into his go-bag.

“Could you go me a small favor?” JJ asked. “Reid left early this morning to meet up with a friend of Garcia’s at Cal Sci in Pasadena for a physics and applied mathematics demonstration. Would you mind going over there and picking him up? He took a cab over and I can’t reach him on his cell right now to tell him to grab one back here.”

Rossi calculated the time he’d need to shower, finish packing, and grab a quick breakfast. “Yeah, I can do it. Can you get me directions?”

Thirty minutes later and Rossi was squinting against the bright California sun. Even with his sunglasses on, the light was unbelievably bright—or maybe that was his hangover speaking. Rossi had joined Agents Fuller, Brown, and Martinez at the bar last night to recover from their latest case and perhaps stayed longer than he should have. Oh well, at least the LA agents would have a lasting respect for their elders now—silly kids had thought they could outlast him!

He finally found a parking space and started towards the math and science quadrangle, according to JJ he’d be able to find Reid somewhere in the general area. For all the lectures and book tours he’d done in his retirement, he’d never been particularly comfortable in the academic world. He could give the recruitment speech a thousand times, people he had no problem relating too—it was the dim sense of disappointment he felt emanating from the professors that made him uncomfortable. It always felt like they disapproved of everything he was, from the badge to the blue-collar heritage.

Turning a corner, he spotted Reid with two short men, one blond and one with a head of riotous dark curls. The three were sitting on a ledge examining a tank of water set on the grass behind them. Reid had folded his cuffs up to his elbows and was reaching into the tank excitedly. The curly haired one was gesticulating wildly, but Rossi could see his audience was contributing to the discussion as well.

It was interesting to see how well Reid fit in here—usually the kid stuck out like a sore thumb. He was too young, too thin, too talkative, and too eccentric to truly fit into the police stations they spent so much time in. But craning his head to observe the other students and professors milling around campus, Rossi could lose the kid in a crowd.

“Reid,” he called out. The three men spun around.

“Rossi!” Reid said excitedly. “You’ve got to see this! Charlie’s going to be using these clear spheres for a class demonstration later this week, they’re pretty cool.”

“Clear Spheres?” Rossi asked.

“Hydrophilic crystals that expand to 300 times their size when placed in water,” the curly haired man replied.

“And the index of refraction is such that they become, for all practical purposes, invisible in the tanks of water,” the other blond man replied. Extending an arm, he said, “Larry Fleinhardt, theoretical physicist and cosmologist. And this is my coworker, Charles Epps, professor of mathematics.”

“David Rossi,” Rossi said as he shook both men’s hands. “Unfortunately I have to steal Reid from you both, our plane’s leaving earlier than expected.”

“Well Spencer, it was great to meet you,” Eppes said to Reid. “Give me a call when you have some time, I’d love to talk to you about the methods your using for geographic profiling.”

“Of course,” Reid responded, almost gushing. “Do you mind if I email you about your work on Cognitive Emergence Theory? It sounds positively fascinating.”

Rossi had never had children, but he knew enough from his nieces and nephews to know if he didn’t intervene soon he’d more than likely spend half-an-hour standing there waiting for “just one more minute” of discussion.

Grabbing Reid gently, he started to maneuver them both towards the SUV while waving to the two men. As they left, he heard Larry tell Charlie, “Thank you for letting me see the clear spheres, it was certainly a more pleasant distraction than what’s waiting for me in my office.”

“Paperwork?” Eppes asked sympathetically.

“Sheldon Cooper,” Fleinhardt replied morosely.

Besides him, Reid was practically skipping back to the parking lot. “Seems like an interesting guy,” Rossi said.

Reid grunted in agreement. “He specializes in applied mathematics and also consults for the FBI. His application of mathematics to criminal investigation is really groundbreaking,” he said.

“He’s a friend of Garcia’s?” Rossi asked as they got into the car.

“His fiancée Amita went to school with Garcia, I guess they’re pretty good friends,” Reid replied. “She thought we might get along.”

“The math stuff, right,” Rossi said as he took a left to get back to the highway.

“That and we had pretty similar academic experiences,” Reid replied. “It’s not often I find someone who went to college at the same age I did.”

Rossi was surprised, “Yeah, I can see how that wouldn’t happen often. Sorry to cut your visit short then.”

“I got on campus pretty early,” Reid replied easily. “Got to spend a few hours talking about one of his newer theories he’s working on. We’re thinking of writing a paper on geographical profiling this fall actually.”

“Reid,” Rossi started, “you have a completely different understanding of doing things in your free time than the rest of us.”

 **5) Parallel Play**

It was like watching Jack play, Hotch though as Dr. Brennan and Reid read the geological survey of the dump sites. Agent Booth had called Hotch to get a new perspective on a mass burial site he was investigating with the help of the Jeffersonian Institute. Hotch brought Reid for his expertise in geological profiling and as way to ensure Morgan would finish his reports—the man seemed unable to do paperwork so long as he could distract Reid.

Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth’s main contact in the Jeffersonian Institute and a forensic anthropologist, was hunched over the right side of her desk with the second of the two reports, eyes carefully scanning each line to ensure she didn’t miss a thing. Reid was hunched over the left side absently playing with the first report.

Hotch knew the familiar drumming of Reid’s fingers was more a sign of thinking than impatience, but judging from the tensing of Agent Booth’s shoulders that wasn’t readily apparent. Dr. Brennan didn’t seem to notice though as she finally closed the second report.

Without making eye contact, Reid and Dr. Brennan exchanged copies of the report. Reid’s hand flies over the lines but he flips the pages quietly as he goes.

“Is he for real?” Agent Booth asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Hotch replies equally quiet. He gestures towards the hallway. Once the two men have left the office, he asks in a normal voice, “I’ve been wondering, why the partnership with the Jeffersonian Institute?”

“Bones does good work,” Agent Booth replied a bit defensively. “She and her team of squints find stuff I’d never think of just by examining the body and its surroundings.”

“I’m a profiler,” Hotch said wryly, “I’m not about to discount the benefits of having smart people on my side.”

Booth grinned in response. The two men looked in through the window to Dr. Brennan’s office, where the two doctors were now both writing notes.

“Kind of like parallel play, isn’t it?” Booth remarked at the sight.

Hotch nodded slowly, “But most toddlers lack multiple PhDs and squabble over chalk, not soil analysis.”

Booth grinned and looked back inside. “Come on, I know that look on Bones’ face—looks like she had something.”

By the time they entered the small office, Reid and Brennan were practically finishing each other’s sentences.

“And if we consider the salinity level of the Chesapeake Bay Area in early October,” Reid was saying excitedly.

“Then we should have a better timeline to differentiate the age of each skeleton,” Dr. Brennan finished. “Good thinking Dr. Reid.”

“Well,” Reid replied, “without your mention of Coulson’s article on salinity and Sea Turtle bones that got me thinking.”

“Hate to break of the mutual admiration society you two have going on here,” Agent Booth interrupted, “but what’s the next step?”

After Reid and Brennan explained, Booth and Hotch took to their cell phones, Hotch to call Garcia for background on their victims and Booth to a contact in the CIA for satellite images of the dumpsite over the past three years.

“You’ve read Coulson’s article?” Hotch heard Dr. Brennan ask Reid. “I only knew about it because he asked for bone samples, how did you?”

“A friend of mine forwarded it me,” he replied softly. “Though I might be able to use some of my graduate work to determine the best location to finding fragments in the wild.”

“When this is over,” Dr. Brennan said slowly, “I want to know what work that was and how you think it’ll apply to Sea Turtles.”

“Sounds good,” Reid replied. “Have you ever been to St. Elmos?”

“St. Elmos it is,” Dr. Brennan agreed. “And my friends call me Temperance, you can too you know.”

“Spencer,” Reid replied with a grin.

Hotch smiled at the exchange. Three years ago, he thinks to himself, he’s not sure Reid would have noticed the invitation in Dr. Brennan’s voice.

 **BONUS: and one time he isn’t**

 **6) Ignominy**

They’re in Vegas again, this time to catch a serial bomber. Morgan hasn’t slept more than four hours in the last three days, but until the Las Vegas Crime Lab finishes the chemical analysis of the bombs all he can continue to do is pound the pavement hoping to find something.

When they get the call the analysis is done, Morgan grabs Reid and hightails it over to the lab. He supposes he could have waited for the report to go through the proper channels, but he’d rather step on a few toes than see another family blown up.

A flash of their credentials gets them past the receptionist and into the Crime Lab Director’s office, Dr. Grissom. While Reid explores the myriad of specimen jars holding various floating creatures eagerly, Morgan waits impatiently. Every second he spends here waiting for the night shift’s report is a minute he’s not hunting down the sick son on a bitch who gets his jollies from bombing family restaurants.

A grey haired man sticks his head into the office, “You gentlemen from the FBI?”

“Yes sir,” Morgan replies when it becomes clear Reid’s still engrossed with what looks like a fetal pig. “I’m Special Agent Morgan and this is Special Agent Dr. Reid. We’re here for the chemical analysis of the bombs.”

“Right, we’re currently doing reconstruction in room 2, but I can give you a run down of the report in a minute,” he replies.

“I’d like to see the reconstruction if you don’t mind,” Morgan replied. He points to Reid, “If you can just give a copy of the analysis to Dr. Reid here, we’ll be out of your hair in a moment.” Morgan ignores the snort of disbelief from Dr. Grissom with the long ease of practice.

He takes a quick right and finds two technicians fussing of the pieces of one of the latest bombs. “How’s is going?” he asks curiously, though given the state of disrepair on the table he isn’t expecting much.

“We’ve just started,” the black man replies. “We’ll let you know when we have something, Agent?” his voice trails off curiously.

“Special Agent Morgan,” he introduces himself yet again. “And you are?”

“Warrick Brown,” the man replies. He gestures to his co-worker who hasn’t looked up from sorting the debris. “That’s Nick Stokes. We promise man, we’ll let you know when we something. Right now, we don’t have anything to tell you.” He runs a hand through his hair tiredly.

Morgan can tell the man had pulled just as many long hours as he has and feels a sort of kinship. He holds his hands out peacefully. “I got it man, I got it.”

Warrick offers a small, tight smile in response. “Sorry, we’ve been getting that question a bit too often lately. Look,” he tears a sheet of paper from a nearby pad, “here’s my cell. Give me a call in about two hours and I’ll tell you everything I know then.”

“Thanks man, I appreciate it,” Morgan replies.

The door opens and Reid walks in. He stops in the entryway.

“Reid, these are CSIs Brown and Stokes, they’re doing the reconstruction,” Morgan introduces. “Guys, this is Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Warrick looks at Reid a moment before extending his hand, “It’s nice to meet you Dr. Reid.”

Reid looks down at the hand for a long moment, and then bobs shortly. “I’ve got the report, we can go now.” He turns abruptly and exits the room, his long legs sending him around the corner before Morgan can process what just happened.

As Warrick pulls his hand back, Morgan starts to apologize. “He can be a little intense sometimes,” he tries lamely. “Thanks for the contact information, I’ll give you a call in about two hours.” He rifles through his wallet, “here’s my card. If you find anything before hand, feel free to give me a call.”

Morgan catches up to Reid quickly. “What’s up with you? We need these guys, could it have killed you to say ‘hello’?”  
“Warrick Brown and I have met before,” Reid replies tightly.

“Really? You sure?” Morgan questions. “Didn’t seem like it from my end.”

Reid doesn’t answer, choosing instead to try to walk and (re)read the chemical analysis in his hands. They arrive at the SUV in silence. Morgan knows from long experience that trying to force Reid to speak when he doesn’t want to is like pulling teeth.

“We went to high school together,” Reid says finally. “He was in a bunch of my math and science classes. For a while there I thought he was my friend.”

“Oh,” Morgan replies dumbly.

“Yeah,” Reid replies softly.


End file.
